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“You are fond and foolish, Hermione, and like all young mothers are enraged if all the world does not see his father’s image in their first-born.” “Democrates knows what I would say,” said the younger woman, soberly. “Since your Ladyship is pleased to speak in riddles and I am no seer nor oracle-monger, I must confess I cannot follow. But we will contend no more concerning little Phœnix.
Phormio as well as Glaucon had heard the avowal of Democrates on the night of the seizure. There was no longer any doubt of the answer to the great riddle. But disheartening, benumbing beyond all personal anguish was the dread for Hellas. The sacrifice at Thermopylæ vain. The glory of Salamis vain. Hellas and Athens enslaved.
He will pay the man who completes the coin ten talents.” Democrates received the token, but felt that he must stand upon his dignity. “I have given an oath, stranger, but give the like to me. What proof have I of this Mydon?” The question seemed to rouse the unseen lion in the Cyprian. His eye kindled. His voice swelled.
“To examine everything strange,” proclaimed Democrates, sententiously, “needs the life of a crow, who, they say, lives a thousand years, but I don’t see any black wings budding on Themistocles’s shoulders. Pull onward, Glaucon.” “Whither?” demanded the rower. “To Salamis,” ordered Themistocles. “Let us see the battle-place foretold by the oracle.”
Democrates, therefore, who had formerly commanded the fleet, and happened to be in command in the quarter, seeing that all was quiet around him, while other parts of the city resounded with such a din that sometimes shout like that of a captured city was raised, and fearing loss while he hesitated, the consul should make some attack and advance his standards, led his party over to the citadel, from which the most alarming noise proceeded.
For the gods have sent me blessings beyond desert, I no longer fear their envy as once. I enjoy honour with all good men. I have no enemy in the world. I have the dearest of friends, Cimon, Themistocles—beyond all, Democrates.
Hermione sat on a wide chair beside Lysistra, her comely mother; her younger brothers on stools at either hand. Directly across the narrow table Glaucon and Democrates reclined on the same couch. The eyes of husband and wife seldom left each other; their tongues flew fast; they never saw how Democrates hardly took his gaze from the face of Hermione.
True, not every story ran to Democrates’s credit, but Hermippus knew the world, and could forgive a young man if he had occasionally spent a jolly night. Democrates seemed to have forsworn Ionian harp-girls now. His patriotism was self-evident. The Eleusinian saw in him a most desirable protector in the perils of war for Hermione and her child.
If I know your power over me, I can also promise you not to go down to Orchus alone, but take excellent pains to have fair company.” “I am sorry to bear such tidings to Lycon, Excellency.” “Away with you!” “Do not raise your voice, kyrie,” spoke Hiram, never more blandly, “here is a man asleep.” The hint sent Democrates from the spot almost on a run. Hiram disappeared in the opposite direction.
“Until you again have need,” said the Prince, not seeking to wring from the other any promise. Democrates muttered a sullen farewell and went down the dark stairs. The light in Phormio’s house was out. No one seemed to be watching.
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